


Eyes

by PotionMistress



Series: In the public eye [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindness, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, ancient laws
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-06-11 09:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionMistress/pseuds/PotionMistress
Summary: After the Final Battle, Harry loses his sight. How will he adapt to his new reality?





	1. This is war

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in a pretty strange moment in my life. In my mind I see the wizarding world as very traditional and not very adapted to disabled people. I'd love to explore a little bit about it. 
> 
> In my mind this is Snarry, but in the very long term. Probably in a "second season" if I find the time and courage to write it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

  1. This is war.



It’s the moment of truth and the moment to lie

The moment to live and the moment to die

The moment to fight, the moment to fight,

To fight, to fight, to fight

 

This is war

30 seconds to Mars

 

 

 

No person should ever face this fate. No human being should be forced to admit that he was brought up to die. Definitively not a 17 year-old boy. Never had Harry felt so little. As soon as he finished watching Snape’s memories in the pensieve all he wanted to do was run. Hide far away, far from this non-sense.

He wanted to run and catch his dreams: play quidditch, dance until his feet hurt, swim in the beach… but his destiny had a different route: dying tonight or become an accomplice for the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands.

He remembered the bitter words of Dumbledore when Sirius died: “Sometimes we have to take something we don’t want if it is the lesser evil”. In that case it was only to deny him his right to go back to Grimmauld Place and send him back to Privet Drive. To protect him. Such a stupid idea as he was only postponing his death. He could have enjoyed some time as a normal person.

But he was not a normal person. Voldemort had stolen him that right when he was barely one year old. He gulped even though his mouth was dry and took one last deep breath. The portrays gave him a sad look but he avoided their gaze.

He had to act and he had to do it quickly. He didn’t know how much time he had left before the Death Eaters attacked the school. He pressed the Resurrection Stone hard in his hand and in front of him he could see the reflection of the soul of his parents and Sirius. They smiled sadly to him. Warmly.

“I’m scared” he confessed to the spectrums on the verge of tears.

“Don’t be” James said. “We will be with you all the time”.

“Did you know...?” he tried to ask Sirius with the eyes filled with tears.

“I supposed” admitted his godfather. Harry thought he was going to feel betrayed but he didn’t. He could understand the sadness of Sirius, locked away from him, not allowed to make the boy happy…

“Mom…” Harry didn’t want to cry when this were mere reflections of what he could have had. Should have had.

“I’ll be with you all the time, darling. I’m always with you.”

“Will it hurt?” he asked.

None could answer. He looked at them one last time. At least he will get something good from this non-sense. Harry put the stone in his pocket and as soon as he did so, his family disappear, but soon he will be one with them.

It was the moment to act. He recovered Snape’s memories from the Pensieve and cleaned his face. He will die with dignity. His mom had died for him, for the supreme act of love to give him life. He will die for the life of his friends. It was a sacrifice, a sacrifice of love, he will live in each one of those who he was helping to save.

He stepped out of the headmaster’s office and saw Hermione waiting for him there.

“What did you hear?” he asked the girl.

“Nothing, the office has an anti-eavesdropping charm…” Hermione answered.

“It’s better in that way. Now we have to act.” Harry smiled. “Snape is seriously wounded if not dead in the Shrieking Shack, send someone for him when you can. He is a spy. These probe it” He gave her the vials.

“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked.

“I’m going to kill Voldemort” Smiled Harry.

“You’ll need help” Ron appeared of nowhere covered in dust and blood.

“No, it is me who have to do this. I’ll be fine”

“Dumbledore must have left you a huge secret if you’re so sure.” Ron insisted.

“There’s no time to lose” Harry admitted. “Take care…”

And he started walking far from them to face Voldemort. He turned only once.

“Love you guys, you are the best that have happened to me” he said.

Ron looked at him in astonishment not knowing what to answer. Hermione then understood. She started to cry silently.

“Love you, Harry” she muttered.

Harry walked over the debris, wading against minor fights and people who were running. He paid no attention. Someone called him. He ignored all of them. Now he was determined and he had to fight before he chickened out.

“I’m here, Tom” he shouted. And then, all the noise, all the fights, stopped.

“I knew you were a senseless boy, but I had never expected to be this stupid” Voldemort answered. “Coming here alone…”

“I think this is personal…” Harry interrupted.

“…to die” finished Voldemort.

Harry took his wand out and pointed to Voldemort.

“I never thought you were a man of words, Tom… More an action guy” he challenged.

Voldemort laughed and Harry felt it as if an ice bucket was over his head.

“Avada Kedravra” both of them said.

Harry once read that Catholics believe that when Jesus died, the Veil of Jerusalem was torn. The noise was so intense and the there was an earthquake. And Harry felt it. His head hurt as it was going to explode, his legs no longer maintained him.

Then, all was silence and darkness.


	2. When you break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos in the first chapter!

  1. When you break



 

And you've been crying out for forever  
But forever's come and gone  
You keep begging for forgiveness  
But you don't think you've done wrong  
You've been crying out for forever  
Forever's come and gone  
My bleeding hands, my shaking head

When you break

Bear’s Den

 

The surface he was in was… soft. Even comfortable. He groaned. He could not feel pain, but so… what was the word… numb? He tried to move but his body was not responding. Was he dead? This could not be death as it was too… familiar. He has always been familiar with pain. There was a muffled sound… the ward’s charm. So he should be in a hospital, after all.

\- You’re finally awake, professor- one young and smiling nurse told him.-We were beginning to worry that the antidote did not make any effect – she said placing several enchantments to check his vitals- please, do not try to speak, ok? Your throat was severely damaged and could not be treated until you were stronger… you lost a lot of blood… - she was writing in a paper while she was blabbering. This girl had been her student not so many years ago… if he could remember her name. – You’ve being out for nearly a month, everything is calmer now… that’s good, I think all of us have had excitement for various lifetimes, and if what the newspaper says it’s true, you have had it for more than two decades. Wow! Who could have said that the batty-like potions professor was a double agent!

\- Moon… - he was able to groan in the end. Sophie Moon. This was her. Strange Slytherin case. Orphaned in the first war, unknown parents. A compendium of houses: the cunning intelligence of a Slytherin, the manners of a Hufflepuff, the curiosity of a Ravenclaw, the bravery of a Gryffindor, always trying to help others… being bullied at school…

\- Don’t speak Professor! Or… Can I take points from you?- she smiled- she sat next to the man and continued. – At least I see that you haven’t got apparent brain damage, what is good.  – She smiled again- I’m sorry that I have to inform to the Aurors division that you have woken up.  – She stood- I’ll send a doctor to check on you. And I’ll bring you some ice chips, you must be thirsty. 

Snape grunted. He wanted to be left alone.

\- One last thing, Professor. I’ve been trying to contact your next of kin, but you only had Professor Dumbledore in the list… is there anyone else?

Snape grunted.

\- Don’t worry… we’ll take care of you.

 

* * *

 

Nearly a month after the final battle, there were only two patients left in the hospital but the reality of their rooms could not have been more different. Professor Snape’s room was empty but the patient. Silent. On the other one lied Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived. His room was full of people, with thousands of presents.

\- There must be something that can be done- protested Arthur Weasley- he is like that to save us all… we cannot stop fighting.

\- Weasley, as I have told you… the damage is irreversible, his connection with… that wizard was broken and damaged his visual nerves… he’ll never recover his vision- the doctor explained once again.

\- You know what this means? - Arthur Weasley inquired again.

\- Yes, Sir, I do. - he replied – I’m sorry, Sir.

 

Sophie entered the room to check on the boy. He could not be described as a man and now that he looked utterly lost, confused and alone, despite being surrounded by people, he looked even younger. He had awoken a week before but since then, several healers had refused to let him go home, trying to find a cure for his illness.

\- Hi Mr Potter- said Sophie when entered to deliver the potions for the pain of the boy- You look astonishing today… - She tried to cheer the boy up while making him drink the potions. She checked the bandages. Poor kid. Pretty eyes, ruined forever.

\- Has he woken up? - he asked

\- Yes, our sleeping beauty has woken up.

\- That’s good. – he said. His voice was plain, without any emotion. – Is he OK?

\- You know I cannot deliver information about other patients- she explained. - He has seen better days, but he will recover. He is professor Snape, after all… there are many generations of future Hogwarts students to be tormented by him. – She wrote all the data she had collected on the patient’s chart – Is there anything you need and I can help you?

\- Thanks.

\- Bye then.

 

* * *

 

And Harry was left alone. Or not. He suspected there was someone in the room. It seemed to be a big room, bigger than the one Mr. Weasley had been in when he was attacked. Bigger than Neville’s parents. They have stopped speaking to him. He grunted most of the time. He was scared. Not seeing, everything seemed dauting. Arthur Weasley had taken the role of his next of kin while he was in hospital. The Weasleys had only left that room to bury Fred. The man spoke to him.

\- Harry, I need to speak to you- the man said. He sounded concerned. By is voice, Harry imagined he had aged several years in the last few months. No honest man should ever bury a son.

\- Yes, Mr. Weasley? – He asked.

\- The doctors said that your… condition… the blindness… is irreversible. – He sounded very nervous- I’m afraid you won’t see again.

Huge tears were falling from Harry’s eyes. By the sound of his voice, he guessed Arthur Weasley was trying hard not to cry too.

\- According to the wizard law… Due to this… you cannot be considered a wizard. It is probable there will be a trial and declared you incapacitated for the use of magic. We’ll find a lawyer but even Kingsley say there is little we can do…

Harry felt used.

 

And broken.

 

Lost.

 - Snape has woken up- he finally said.

-Have you heard me, Harry? Do you understand what I have told you? – Arthur asked fearing for the boy’s sanity.

-I have. I need his trial to be before this… my… hearing. He needs to be seen as a hero. At least, there will be justice for one of us.

 

* * *

 

Snape looked the concoction in front of him. Since he woke up, three days ago, they had been feeding him with soups and strange mashed vegetables. The door opened. Not the over enthusiastic Moon, again… his poor nerves.

\- You look well, Snape. – The visitor said.

\- Kingsley…- the ill  man acknowledged.

\- I’m sorry this is not a courtesy visit, Severus- the auror gave him a letter- Your hearing is due in two days. I think it is all a mere procedure as your role in war seems to be obvious…

\- The ministry seems too eager to cage me.

\- It has not been the ministry who rushed things. It was Harry.

-How kind of Potter to send to justice an ill man.

\- Snape… you have no idea – said Kingsley leaving.

 

* * *

 

Harry sat in front of the Winzegamot. He should have been standing but exceptions could be made and he deserved one. He was the fucking-boy-who -lived. He told them Snape’s role as a spy. The importance of the information he provided.

\- Are you blind, Mr Potter? -someone asked before he left for his own hearing.

-Legally, not yet- he defied.

And he was accompanied to other room where his path to condemn started. But he could save a good man. His last service.

 

* * *

 

Harry was sent to wait in a bench. Alone. He was more or less a kid. Forever. Guarded by the Weasleys. His wand had been broken. His belongings transferred to others.  He didn’t want to cry. He had known this was happening. The worst was the uncertainty. Not only about the future… also about now.

He was in a corridor. He needed to go to the loo but no one seemed to pay attention to him. Everyone was rushing around him.

Someone approached him, limping.

\- Potter…I wanted to thank you. - It was Snape. His voice sounded strange. He should have gone out of his trial by now. – I don’t think I deserve the honors they give me… - the man continued but Harry could not pay attention to him.

 

He had urinated on himself.


	3. Concrete Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if my English is not perfect. Even though I wanted to write fanfics since I was around 20 (a long, long time ago) I never did because I always felt that the language was going to be a huge hindrance. This fic is being quite difficult to write not only for the language, the personal moment in which I'm in and the feeling of shame to write in a language that is not my own.
> 
> Nevertheless, I'll try to improve, but I need some time writing to polish all these fears. Should I stop writing? Probably, but I'm not going to do so. Maybe I'll write some drabbles or something like that to write a little more and feel a little more secure.
> 
> For all of you who are here, commenting, reading or leaving kudos, a huge thank you!

3: Concrete Angel

If you keep building these walls  
Brick by brick towers so tall  
Soon I won't see you at all  
Till the concrete angel falls  
I knew who you were from the start  
But now I don't know who you are  
Soon there will be nothing at all  
Till the concrete angel falls

Concrete Angel

Christina Novelli

 

“Happy birthday, Harry”- Hermione said placing a present in front of him. 

“Thanks” he forced a smile back.

“Do you need help to open it?” she offered.

“I’ll do it later, don’t worry”.

 

Hermione looked sadly at him. It was just not fair. Two days have passed since Harry returned from hospital. He looked scared. The Burrow, was not adapted to a person without vision, and  whenever he moved he was constantly hitting himself, so he spend most of his time in an armchair next to a window. The sightings outside were horrible, not that he could appreciate them,  but it was a sunny spot.

 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Harry?” She asked.

“Stop asking would be a good starting point” he regretted answering in such a rude way just seconds after starting to speak…”Sorry, Mione.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.”

 

They sat in silence. Harry has begged not to have any kind of celebration for his birthday that year and with so many loses so recent, no one fought his desire.

 

“Are you going back?” Harry asked.

“To Hogwarts?” she questioned. “Yes, I’ll have my education finished and I’ll collaborate with the reconstruction.”

“Ron is jumping to the Auror’s programme” he said sadly.  “I think I would have gone back to Hogwarts… I’d love to watch the Great Hall ceiling once more, to study for the NEWTS… even brew potions”

“Shit, Harry” Hermione was crying. So was he.

 

The tension in the headmistress office was obvious. She could understand what Snape had done and why he had behaved in such a horrible way, but there were many open wounds still bleeding.

“I’m sorry, Professor” Snape was saying, unable to look at the woman in the eye, feeling as a small child caught red handed stealing candy in a shop “for my behavior the previous year”.

“I thought, I told you many years ago that my name is Minerva, Severus” – she said.

“Minerva… I’d understand if you don’t want me here after… but I wanted to apply for my old post as potions teacher”

Severus had never considered any other place as his home as Hogwarts. Seen it so damaged, it was a reflection of how he truly felt. “At least, I’d like to collaborate in the reconstruction”.

“You are most welcome, Severus. I cannot forget what you did last year, but you are forgiven, taken it was for the greater good”

 

The Burrow was full of activity that 31st of August. Hermione and Ginny were preparing for returning to Hogwarts and Ron was trying hard not to babble about the programme he will start the following day.

“It’s OK for you to be happy” Harry said. “I’ll be OK; Molly and Arthur are like my parents and will take care of me; Ron will visit every other weekend and I’ll go to Hogsmeade on your village weekends; Christmas is only a few months away”.

 

Harry was determined not to let anyone see how empty he felt. He hated being all day long without anything to do, but there was nothing he could do. Not even sleeping. The idleness was taking possession of him.

“I’ll send you letters” Hermione promised “and I’m sure Molly will help you answer”.

“Yes, it will be like being at Hogwarts without all the boring stuff” he joked. His life had stopped. He couldn’t make other’s stop.

Hermione hugged him.

“Everything will improve Harry, I promise”.

“I’m OK. Don’t worry about me”

The girl tightened the hug. She didn’t want to leave his friend. Leaving the house the following morning would be like becoming adults. The trio will be broken. Because even fighting against Voldemort had seem a teenager adventure, because they were together. What the bastard hadn’t managed living, he has fulfilled in his death: separate them.  She knew it was nothing definitive: Ron will become an Auror and she had a complete year to decide what to study; but Harry was stuck in a children status forever.

“Let’s have dinner” she suggested. “Molly will kill us if we don’t eat all the stuff she has prepared.”

“Not hungry… “ he protested. He didn’t feel like being spoon-fed.

 

Hermione nodded.

“I’ll take you to the armchair, then”

“Can you take me to my bedroom, please?”

 

Lying on top of the bed Harry was calculating. An average wizard lived 150 years. He was 18. There were 132 years ahead of doing nothing. That were 48180 days. Many hours. The thought was suffocating.

 

Severus was tidying the Potions class. It had never been so scarcely equipped. The money was low in the budget and many things were needed. Many parts of the castly were still in ruins. How had Minerva managed to get the school open was out of his mind.

He moved to his rooms. Not many Slythering were returning that year: many were imprisioned, or dead; many feared to be associated to the Death Eaters. The idea of founding a school in which four houses were together may had been but had always fostered rivalries.

He took a cup of tea and sat in the sofa. He had wanted to change it for years, the leather being so tattered that gave a poor impression of the room. But it was homey. This was the sofa in which he had slept the night he told Dumbledore about Lily; it had being his only companion the many nights in which nightmares tormented him; it was more than a piece of furniture, it was the witness of how low he could be; it will be the witness of a new time.

He decided to go to Minerva’s office. He knocked at the door and waited to be let entered in.

“How can I help you, Severus?” Minerva asked looking at him behind a lot of papers.

Severus sight was wandering thought the place. Despite having killed Dumbledore two years ago, he still expected to see the man offering sweets somewhere.

“Fawkes has seen better days” he whispered.

“He’ll never be the same without Albus” she agreed.

“None of us will be” Severus petted the bird.

 

The silence filled the room. Minerva had learnt to leave each person the time needed. Maybe that is why she was chosen headmistress. A real one, not the farce he was the previous year”.

“I don’t deserve a Merlin Order” He finally said.

“That’s disputable, Severus.” She said calmly. “Besides, there’s little I can do against that”.

“But I can donate the award to the school. So much money is need to reconstruct it; I helped to destroy … I want to help as much as I can”

 

Snape was crying. So was Minerva.

 

“Albus was right” she said caressing the man’s hair.

“What about?”

“You may think you are a snake, Severus, but you are a phoenix. When you burn yourself, you always return being nicer than you were before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are welcome! Good, bad or even the horrible ones.
> 
> I've created a playlist with the songs from which I take the excerpts to name the chapters: You can find it here https://open.spotify.com/user/vimpela/playlist/3K8QAtvL3z9sbuoFsQZe7c?si=Fuu6ss4RRAyLSl4qQLglkg
> 
> I'm also looking for communities to get some prompts for writing, so if you can recommend any community it is much welcome. I've created an LJ account for this purpose.
> 
> See you soon!


	4. A house is not a home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will all adapt to the new reality war has left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanfics brought me lovely people many many years ago, and now I have just recover one of them. Alisevv, I'm so happy to have found you again! 
> 
>  
> 
> It has taken me ages to continue with Eyes. I'm still writing, and I have several chapters written but my life is a rollercoaster now and I didn't find the energy to post... I'll try to be more regular now.

Chapter 4: A house is not a home.

A room is a still a room, even when there's nothin' there but gloom  
But a room is not a house and a house is not a home  
When the two of us are far apart  
And one of us has a broken heart

A house is not a home

Christin Chenoweth

 

Harry had always considered The Burrow a home: full of life and happy memories. But now it felt much more like a prison. He spent most of his day sitting in an armchair, eating frugally, sleeping less and less. Even though Molly tried to chat with him, he just couldn’t. Arthur tried to read to him at night, but his voice was becoming disgusting...

* * *

 

Hermione put on some jeans and a sweater. Even though she was in Hogwarts, she was wearing muggle clothes for the reconstruction. All was done with magic, but there was so much dirt that she felt more comfortable with lighter clothes.

Most of teacher and many of the returnees 8th year students spent many hours a day there, after classes and homework. She realized that she should be worrying over NEWTs, but they no longer seemed so important.

\- It’s just a big room now- she thought aloud looking and the ceiling of the Great Hall, naked of the charm which made it looked like a starred ceiling.

\- It will recover it’s old splendor, Miss Granger- a voice told at her back.

\- Professor- she nodded at Snape.- It will never be the same- she admitted.

\- Because we all have lost the ingenuity. But time will pass, the wounds would heal, we will not be the same… but we will look up the sky and see the stars.

-Not all wounds will heal.

\- No, not all of them.

* * *

 

Dear Harry,

How are you doing? I really hope that you are adjusting. I’ve been thinking about you coming to the next Honeydukes weekend. It’ll be for Halloween, we can have some hot chocolate at Madame Rosmerta and I’ll tell you everything about the reconstruction of Hogwarts.

Love,

Hermione.

* * *

 

 

Ron was exhausted after his training. The work for becoming an auror was tough and the physical part extenuating. But he felt really important. Many knew his role in the final battle and looked at him with admiration. He felt pride.

Truth was that the real important one had been Harry, but he was nowhere around, o he could enjoy his fame. And in a few days he will go to Honeydukes to see his girlfriend. Life was perfect.

* * *

 

            Molly was worried. She could not do anything to alleviate the sorrow in Harry’s life. She was fond of the boy; he was like one more of his children.  Life had not been fair with the boy.

\- Harry, dear, fancy anything to eat?- she asked tenderly.

-Not hungry, thanks, Miss Weasley – the boy answered.

-I told you to call me Molly. And Harry, you’ve barely eaten in all day.

-How can I be hungry if I’m not doing anything at all? – he asked tiredly.- I’d like to go to bed… - and Molly could only take him to the room he was occupying. She helped him to change to the pajamas.

She wrinkled her nose. Harry could do with a bath; cleaning charms stopped being effective after a while. She tucked the boy in bed and wished that time could improve his wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is the lovely A house is not a home by Kristin Chenoweth. You can listen all the songs that inspired this fanfic in this playlist that I will be updating as I update the fanfic.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/vimpela/playlist/3K8QAtvL3z9sbuoFsQZe7c?si=jR5Bu61YTnWFJoE6QvT2fg


	5. As the world falls down

  1. As the world falls down



 

 

As the pain sweeps through,  
Makes no sense for you.  
Every thrill is gone.  
Wasn't too much fun at all,  
But I'll be there for you-ou-ou  
As the world falls down.

 

            As the world falls down

David Bowie

 

            Hermione sat in the gurney in Saint Mungo and sighted. She couldn’t understand how the first exit to Hogsmeade of the year had become a nightmare. “The nightmare before Christmas” she joked with herself, reminding one of her favourite movies.

 

            The atmosphere in the village was nearly that of a party; the people had suffered for long the terrors of a war and were willing to celebrate and the afternoon before Halloween was as a good excuse as any other. It had been nearly impossible to find a table in The Three Broomsticks, but being war heroes had some advantages after all.

           

            She found curious how many people wanted to hug her and Ron; so, she was really thankful when Rosmerta suggested a table in the mezzanine; especially considering that it was going to be Harry’s first real exit since he left the hospital. They’ve agreed to spend some time in the pub, drinking a butterbeer and if Harry felt up to; they would go to buy some jokes to Greg’s shop. She was also dying to see Ron; after seven years being together virtually all day, she missed his boyfriend. Ron looked wonderful in his blue robe, training for the Aurors was doing wonders in the boy; really. He also had won in confidence. She was willing to end Hogwarts, maybe trying to look for a place to live with him.

 

            “Isn’t your mum taking too long to bring Harry?” she asked his boyfriend.

            “You know, surely people are stopping them and it is not as if Harry can’t ignore them” Ron answered before sipping his butterbeer. “Should I feel jealous? First time we meet since the beginning of the course and you’re asking for another man”. He teased her.

 

            “Don’t be stupid, you silly”, she giggled. “I’m only a little worried. Harry looked so sad when we left…”

 

            She interrupted her conversation when she saw Molly entering the bar with Harry. It could have been impossible to ignore their entrance, as the whole bar entered in an uncomfortable silence. Harry looked more like a beggar than like the hero they all were expecting. He was so thin and big bags appeared under his eyes; bright green eyes which were unfocused, lifeless. His black hair was more unruled that it has ever been.  They walked painfully slowly to their table, walking between the pity looks of the folks; Harry’s hand was clutching, almost painfully Molly’s arm. When they arrived to their table, Molly kissed them and said how wonderful they looked. She whispered an excuse for their delay, helped Harry to sit down in their table and told Ron to write more often home. She also told them that she would pick up Harry at 7; just when Hermione were supposed to be leaving for school and told them to have fun.

 

            Hermione ordered a butterbeer for Harry and little by little the noise in the bar became normal again.

 

            “How are you doing, Harry?” she asked. There was little more than a shrug in the shoulders of the black-haired boy as an answer.

            “Dude, you’d love the Aurors Academy, we have been studying all these creatures…” rambled Ron before being interrupted by a cough of Hermione. No, that was not a suitable topic to speak with Harry.

            “Yeah, I’d have loved it” said Harry.

 

            And then, they stayed in silence; it was an uncomfortable and painful silence; because it was the clear evidence that they have become adults, that their lives had changed so much; that they may have won the war, but they had lost some many things. Harry much more than the rest.

 

            “Are you hungry?” Hermione asked after a while. “I could do with some fish and chips”.

“You know, sweetie that I’m always hungry” answered Ron quickly and smiling. Harry only made a gesture with his head.

 

So, she ordered, and a second round of butterbeer for her and Ron; Harry had barely had a few sips from his jar.

 

And with the food, it all went to hell. Harry wasn’t used to eat in that table, so his movements looking for the food were erratic; and Ron hadn’t paid attention to where he had left his jar. In a slip, when he was trying to start a conversation with Hermione about her school work, he left it too close to Harry’s hands who, when trying to look for some chips hit it and made it fall in his friend’s new uniform.

 

“Be careful, dude, they’ll punish me in the academy for staining it” was the reproach of the red-haired and Harry started shouting.

 

“I wish someone could reproach me for staining a fucking uniform!” there was so much anger in his voice that it really scared Hermione. And then there was a “clack” sound and Harry’s sad eyes started to sparkle; there was no other word to describe. Or maybe there was, but she couldn’t think of it, because the glass in one of the windows burst; and people started shouting; and Harry’s glass burst too… someone shouted the word “Death Eaters” and people started running, shouting while glass elements continued bursting and chips of glass were falling over them. Harry was there, with his eyes really open and gasping for air; it was Harry’s magic complaining for the rest of the world to have continued their life; and it was right; it was completely unfair; so instead of running as Ron was suggesting, she hugged his friend, murmured some words trying to calm him and promising that she would fight for him to be better.

 

And some hours later, she was being checked for injuries at hospital where they have taken around 15 people. Most victims of panic attacks and small cuts. The aurors quickly declared the area safe and Reparo-ed everything. They also congratulated Ron for his help to evacuate the area. She even thought to have heard someone saying something to his boyfriend like “once a hero, always a hero” but she was not sure.

 

            The doctors checked her and told that she could leave. And when she was getting ready Professor Snape entered. The man was hobbling slightly and looked terribly tired.

 

            “If they have finished with you, Miss Granger, we can go back to the castle” he commanded.

            “Professor, there’s no need for you to be here, I’m of age… I can perfectly go back to Hogwarts on my own” she replied.

            “It is very unusual to have adult students in the school, and the board has explicitly commanded all of you to be chaperoned back after the incident. I guess they don’t want to deal with parents’ complaints” he said.

            “Can I go to see how Harry’s doing? It’ll be a minute”.

 

            Snape agreed.  Afterall, he suspected that the Golden Trio was at the core of the incident the village had suffered.

 

            In a private room, Harry Potter slept profoundly; undoubtedly influenced by different potions and charms. He looked tiny and lost, tired.

 

            “There were no Death Eaters in Hogsmeade” the teacher told Hermione.

            “No”.

 

            The girl took his friend’s hand and told to the sleeping boy.

 

            “Resist, Harry… I’ll fight for you”.


	6. Astronaut

 

Can anybody hear me  
Or am I talking to myself  
My mind is running empty  
In the search for someone else  
Who doesn't look right through me  
It's all just static in my head  
Can anybody tell me why   
I'm lonely like a satellite?

Astronaut

Simple Plan

 

The incident in Hogsmeade was not isolated. Little by little, outbursts of Harry’s magic became a sort of strange routine. Obviously, not all of them were as violent as the first one, but some were.

 

And Harry was also turning... somehow darker. His mood was always somber and he barely ate. Each time his magic turned wild, he only laughed hysterically. Molly thought the poor kid was becoming crazy, and maybe she was not wrong. So, they decided to take him to the doctor.

 

When he could see, Harry had hated Saint Mungo: it’s strange light and the soft pestilence of dirt cleaned by charms instead of by the thorough use of soap; the constant noise, why were wizards so noisy? Now that he could no longer see, his hatred had only grown. There was the constant movement, the bustle and hustle in the corridors only made him feel so helpless.

 

He had spent several hours being taken from one place to another, answering stupid questions and being touched and poked, exposed to many charms. Not a single person has explained him the reason of all this, as if he was only a stone or a laboratory rat.  And now, he was sitting in, what he supposed as, a bench in a corridor ignored by everyone.

 

How ironic. For most of his conscious life as a wizard, all what he desired was to be left alone, to be only Harry not the Chosen One; and as he once heard, you have to be terribly careful with what you desire, as it may come true, and now he was not even Harry... he was no one.

 - Hey Harry, what’s up? - a too joyful voice asked him. A woman, not too old. – “have you forgotten your favorite nurse?”

\- Sophie? – he asked.

\- Obviously, have you got many favorite nurses around here? What are you doing here? Are you feeling sick? - she continued interrogating.

\- They are doing some tests- he answered.

\- Are you adapting well? - her voiced changed. Now she sounded concerned. Not a drop of pity. He hated pity.

\- Don’t have many options.

 

She stayed in silence, not knowing what to say.

\- If you ever need to talk...- she said after a few minutes.

\- Not really... - he replied bluntly.

Sophie bit her lower lip. Only a few months have turned a determined boy in a bitter man. Harry even looked older than eighteen.

-I have to continue with my round- she excused herself. - But I’m serious about this, Harry. If you need anything I can help with... no one should forget how much we owe you.

 

Harry didn’t answer but he knew that they had forgotten. They had continued with their lives. He had been only a pawn in the war, he should have died and they would have treated like a hero, not like a hindrance. That’s all what he was now.

 

Meanwhile in an office not far from there, Arthur and Molly Weasley were speaking with Healer Andrew Thunder, chief of Magic Disorders Ward. He was revising once and again the results of the tests and all the evidence he had in front of him.

\- We have always known that depression alters the use of magic- he started explained to the couple sitting in front of him- and we have had evidence of that for ages, you surely know by now the story of Merope Gaunt. - He started explaining. Molly looked a little lost, not understanding completely where the man was trying to get.

 

 - Magic is something so complex that we barely understand a few things about it... and brain is so obscure that muggles consider it to be the great mystery within ourselves – the man was divagating. The faces of his interlocutors surely had shown him that they didn’t grasp his ideas. - What I’m trying to say is that Harry is not adapting well to his new situation and neither does his magic.

 

“You don’t need to be a Healer to get that” Arthur thought.

 

\- In a normal wizard, a few harmless episodes of wild magic, similar to the ones that happen during childhood would suffice to balance the amount of magic in the body and enable the patient to live a totally normal life... but being Harry such an exceptional wizard...- the Healer stopped his speech. That could not be good.- I fear that his mental health and the relation with his magic may entail a danger for himself and others.

 

The Weasleys by now knew that whatever the prognosis the Healer could give, it would be horrible for Harry.

 

\- It is for this reason that we strongly recommend the administration of Magicae Obstructionum for a period of time no shorter than six months and no longer than ten years, until Harry settles in his new situation.

 

Molly gasped. Magicae Obstructionum was a terrible potion, designed to the most despicable and horrible criminals in Azkaban, even some minor Death Eaters had been forgiven of its administration. The potion blocked the magic of an individual within himself; preventing it from manifesting. Its side effects were horrible as well; for wizards, so used to the use of magic, being able of feeling magic but not of using it often translated in intense pains.

 

\- Are you crazy, sir? - Arthur said. – Harry is a boy, a hero... he gave so much for each one of us and you are saying that we are going to repay all his sacrifices by treating him as a criminal.

\- I’m sorry, Mister Weasley- the healer continued. - But as I have explained, Harry is a potential danger not only for himself but for others, being yourselves the first potential victims.

 

Three Aurors entered in Saint Mungo with their blue cloaks and shiny boots; their steps were muffled by the constant chatter of the patients and personnel in the hospital.

 

\- It is for this reason- Healer Thunder, continued- and because we understand the possible dilemma that this situation can pose to yourselves being so close to Harry, that the decision of its administration has been derived to the Ministry of Magic and has been approved by medical recommendation.

 

The older Auror stopped in front of Harry. He took a parchment out of his cloak and a small vial.

\- Mister Harry James Potter, the Ministry of Magic by recommendation of the Chief of Magic Disorders Ward in Saint Mungo and considering your current situation, has ordered the administration of Magicae Obstructionum on your person for your own safety and those of others. Please, drink this vial without resistance, sir.


	7. Meds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a bit messy. I tried to make you feel what Harry is feeling and therefore his thoughts and this chapter is a bit disjointed. I promise the happy times will come quite soon…

7: Meds

 

I was alone, falling free  
Trying my best not to forget  
What happened to us, what happened to me  
What happened as I let it slip

I was confused by the powers that be  
Forgetting names and faces  
Passersby were looking at me  
As if they could erase it

Baby, did you forget to take your meds?

Meds

Placebo.

 

            When he lived at the Dursleys, Harry was terribly scared of Mister Ryan. Not all the time, obviously, but it was one of his first memories. How could a child not be scared of such a man? He had several scars all over his face and a prosthetic leg. He complained all the time of the pain, not in his stump, but in the missing leg. He blamed the war of his pain. In sunny days, he sat on the sun, without T-shirt or prosthetic and Dudley and Harry, and so many kids in the neighbourhood went to see him. It was like their private monster in the freak show of Surrey.

            In the first days after being forced to take the Magicae Obstructioum, Harry remembered old Mister Ryan. The pain was unbeareable, his body missing his magic, feeling it and not being able to reach it, as the missing limb of the war hero. More and more pain relieve potions were thrown to his throat but the pain was still incapacitating. Not as if he could do many things without his sight or his magic.

            The nightmares were becoming more and more aggressive, not leaving him to sleep and in an act of mercy, Dreamless Potion was also administered to him. The risk of addiction was a too little side effect to the horror the patient was suffering.

            Healer Thunder considered that in a few weeks, months top, Harry will get used to live without his magic and the pain would ease, therefore, it was the correct treatment. And to confirm his theories, he pointed out that since the administration of the blocking magic potion, the patient had not suffered a single magic outburst.

            Harry hated that. He had wanted all his life to be Harry, just Harry, only Harry… but he was at first “The Boy who lived” and now… “the patient”. Why couldn’t he have an identity?

            But those thoughts only appeared when the potions left his mind clear… because most of the time there was only pain, and the artificial numbness of the pain relievers. And he preferred the blur to the pain.

            He lost the track of time. It was not something sudden, but when you can’t differentiate day and night and everything about you is pain and potions and eating when you’re told to and made to take a shower when you stink, time is not relevant anymore.

            Sometimes he thought about the Death Eaters. What an irony! All of them sentenced as he was to live without magic. How could they bear the pain without pain relievers? Was that the reason behind their madness?

            There was noise in the house. A hubbub of owls and floo calls. And people muttering when he was here. But he didn’t care, he was running a fever. All he wanted was to cry and to die.

            “But why on hell aren’t they going to invite him to the memorial of the first year of Voldemort’s defeat?” Was that Hermione? Why was Hermione out of school?

 

A healer was called and he prescribed another drug. He was developing tolerance to the Dreamless Potion, so they needed to find another solution to his problems.

 

“That is not an event for children…” Maybe Percy?

 

 A half-blood healer suggested trying opiates. They appeared in many potions but maybe if they were less adulterated.

 

“Don’t be daft. Harry’s not a child. He actually defeated Voldemort”- That sounded like Ginny.

 

            They injected him with something and he is shocked. Wizards don’t use syringes and needles. Maybe he is not a wizard anymore. But the pain vanishes. He felt he could fly. Oh god! He misses flying.

 

            People go in and out the room. Many owls arrive. And flowers. The house smells of flowers. He is not hungry anymore but they are all together, so he manages to gnaw something. Why is he eating paper? Why is all the food so tasteless now? Was he also cursed to miss the taste?

           

            Pain, and nightmares, and darkness, and numbness, and injections, and missing flying, and tasteless food, and some visits from his friends and missing magic.

 

            And one day he realizes he can’t take it anymore. He started to wish to die.  The potions and injections no longer seem to have effect, so he spends his days in pain.

 

            Hermione comes to visit him.

 

  * “You can’t live like this anymore, Harry”- she tells him while cleaning his tears, rocking him as if he were a baby. - “I’m going to take care of you…”
  * “Hogwarts…?” He manages to ask in a soft voice.
  * “Harry, I graduated two weeks ago…” She sounds scared.



 

And so is he. It only had passed one year in this life of hell of him. He remembered his calculations. He could not bear living longer like this.

“Please, Herm… kill me”- he begged crying. He could feel his friend crying too. 


	8. You will be found

8: You will be found.

 

Even when the dark comes crashing through

When you need a friend to carry you

And when you’re broken on the ground

You will be found

From Dear Evan Hansen

 

            Time is something too ridiculous to be taken seriously, and Harry was sure of it now. He was eating some toast in the kitchen of the apartment he shared with Ron and Hermione. Hermione should be revising for the exam she was taking in a few days’ time so the telly was low. Nevertheless, the news was on the sports section and Ron was really interested in watching the last results of the Premier.

 

            Three and a half year have passed since that day in which he begged Hermione to kill him and despite all the negative effects that they were having at the time, he could say that he was quite happy. In the time since that horrible night, Harry had detoxed from his addiction to painkillers and was coping quite ok with the side effects of the Obstructionum thanks to yoga, and meditation and some herbal teas and some potions for really bad days.

 

            Ron admitted to have been a jerk at the beginning of his Auror training. He confessed that he loved being the centre of attention and being admired. It was understandable up to a point, being the youngest of all the Weasley boys. But little by little he got fed up to it and asked Harry for forgiveness and the dark-haired boy was happy to recover his friend.

 

            And Hermione… well, she had been marvellous. Harry had never doubted about her but in those months when she convinced Molly and Arthur that what Harry needed to be treated in the muggle way to stop wanting to die and adapt to his new reality. She had to convince Dr Thunder to allow Ron (as a member of Authority being at the moment a trainee Auror) to supervise the daily dose of the inhibiting potion and also finding a good detoxication centre and she looked for a psychologist who knew about both the muggle and the wizard word: Alice. She was fantastic! She was helping Harry so much with his depression and she had suggested Harry to attend some training in visual deficiency centres to adapt and to attend therapy groups, to check how muggles could deal with the same problem.

 

            At first Harry only sat and listen at the meetings. All of the members were people who had lost their sight after a traumatic experience: car accidents (he also said that it was his case, it was against the Statue of Secrecy to tell muggles about Voldermort, wasn’t it?), illnesses, medical negligence. They all shared the same pain and the same state of being lost. They cried together when speaking about the realization that they will never see again and celebrated together when they managed doing something new.

 

            It was that, being able to recover some sense of independence what Harry loved the most. Alan, his trainer, was amazing. He had been teaching him how to be independent; first in reduced spaces; being able to shower himself had never seem too important until he could do it; later in their apartment and little by little he was learning to go in the streets.

 

            “You are too silent today”- told Ron moving around. Probably taking his mug to the sink.

            “Just thinking” answered Harry back.

            “Anything interesting?” said Hermione.

            “I want to take my A-levels… maybe going to university”- told Harry.

            “That’s fantastic!” said Hermione once again.

            “Mate, don’t you need to… actually see to study?” asked his friend.

            Hermione was about to say something. Harry laughed.

            “Well, I’m learning Braille and Alan says that there are people that volunteer to read notes to people like me. And there are special programmes in the computers… I’ll be finishing my “blind school” in a few weeks… I don’t want to be hand over hand again… Alice thinks it wouldn’t do me good and I agree.” He sipped his coffee. “ I want to live alone one day…and before you say anything, you will want to live without me one day… I want to be independent… to find a job”

            Hermione hugged him. “Those are great plans. Not that you can leave Ron’s flat while you take the potion”.

            “I’ll have to convince Thunder that three years are enough… there is only an amount of sounds that silencing charms can conceal and you are above that level” he laughed while leaving the room leaving two very blushed young adults in the kitchen.


	9. The eye of the tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some changes are approaching Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it is taking so much to update. I'm not feeling very well... and sometimes it takes me a lot to write. This fic is being cathartic, and as such; it takes me quite a lot to write.

Chapter 9: Eye of the Tiger

Rising up, back on the Street,

Dit my time, took my chances,

Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet

Just a man and his will to survive.

Eye of the Tiger

Survivor.

 

Severus looked at the pile of papers ahead of him. He guessed that the real cursed post in Hogwarts was the one of Deputy Headteacher, not the one of DADA, or otherwise how could be so behind his duties? There had been a problem, an accident, in the potions class, and the report of the teacher was a mere list of excuses. So difficult was to admit that he had been careless? He had to ask the Governors for permission for the reparations and check that the pillars of the castle hadn’t been affected.

There was as well the topic of the international exchange. The International Wizardry Committee had forbidden the Triwizard Tournament years ago, after the Potter’s fiasco, but now they were more willing to international exchanges, but the amount of paperwork to do so was infernal.

He took a look at the watch, he was running late to his daily meeting with Minerva. And later he had a Defense class with a group of seventh years; one of the few hours of teaching that he could take a week. He missed brewing for pleasure or in class, but he didn’t regret taking his part in the reconstruction of the school.

He run stairs up to the Headmistress office and knocked at the door and entered into the office. Minerva was reading the paper sipping a tea.

“Want a tea?” she offered. As most of the times, Severus denied her offer.

“ Minerva, there are some important papers that you need to sign…” he started giving her some parchments.

“How old are  you Severus?” was the headmistress answer.

“ What?” he looked surprised before answering. “You know I’m forty-two, Minerva”.

“I’m turning 69 in a few months…” she continued. Severus didn’t know where this conversation was leading, so he decided to take his papers aside and listened to the woman in front of him. “I’m planning to retire next year, Severus. I’ve already communicated my decision to the Board”.

Severus was shocked. Retiring at 70 was an early retirement in magical standards. But Minerva, truth to be told, looked older: fighting in two wars, surviving many friends and reconstructing a school from ruins taking all the old resentment that a battle took in the school was too much for anyone.

“Have you listened to me, young man?” Severus’ thoughts were interrupted by the call of attention of the smiling woman in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Minerva… I was... surprised” he confessed.

“ I guess. I was telling, that I have also suggested you to be my successor”.

“I can’t be a headmaster… again, Minerva…not after what I had to do when…” he thought of the horrible time when he was pretending to be Voldemort’s loyal servant, the torture of the Carrows…

“You did what you had to do. Without you, this could have been much worse. Even Longbottom says it”- Minerva justified. “You have worked harder than anyone to pay for your old sins and for the reconstruction of this school. You have great ideas and, truth to be said, this school and its curriculum needs some renovation. You are the adequate person for the post, Severus.” The woman was so convinced. “Obviously, the Board hasn’t taken a decision yet, and we have little more than a year to plan everything, but I’d like you to think about it.”

“So, that means that I can still say no” Severus continued.

“Obviously, I’m not Albus. I don’t like imposing people sweets or responsibilities” The woman joked. “But I’d like you to take a couple of days off, I think you have not taken a single day off in the four years that I’ve been Headmistress. Go to London, take some beers, visit a museum… whatever… and think about it”.

“I’m… honored” Severus said. “But I can think here… there’s so much to do…”

“It can wait a few days. This is more important, because if you accept, you’ll have much more paperwork to do” she smiled. “So, hush, boy… leave all those parchments somewhere, I’ll deal with the uselessness of Professor Narcissus and I don’t expect to see one hair of you until Monday.”

“That’s nearly a week off, Minerva”.

“I will pay your full salary for these days off. Consider it as all the holidays you are not going to have when Longbottom’s children come to the school”.

 

Severus smirked as he left the office and went to his rooms. He didn’t feel like going to Spinners’ End, so he booked a room in a muggle hotel near Hyde Park and took his muggle clothes. There was a new season on the Globe he could enjoy and the Tate was exhibiting some works by Pollock.

He packed some books and decided it could do him some good some free time to think.


End file.
